“I heard Blessed grunt and say he’d stymie me easier than Nat Hodges. That was the word he used, ‘stymie.’ Then Grace said something, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“I felt frozen, so terrified I couldn’t think, couldn’t move, could scarcely draw a breath. Finally they moved away, probably to the kitchen, so Blessed could make this horrible old woman a whiskey sour.
“Later, probably after three o’clock in the morning, Autumn showed me the tree branch outside the window and we climbed down.”
Ethan said, “Did you go to the cemetery before you went to get your car? To know for sure?”
Autumn turned in to her mother and wrapped her arms around her back. “It’s all right, sweetie.”
Autumn nodded and turned back. “Mama wanted to see it with her own eyes. But she said she believed me now after what she heard Mrs. Backman say. She knew I didn’t see it in my head.”
Joanna hugged her daughter tightly to her. She kissed her hair. “Know this, Autumn, from now on I will always believe exactly what you tell me.” She gave her daughter a lopsided grin and another hug. “However, whether or not I want to believe you is a very different matter.” She looked up at Ethan. “It was too dangerous to stay. We had to get out of there.”
Ethan studied the little girl’s face. “Tell me, Autumn, what were you doing in the cemetery so late, and alone. When you saw them burying the people?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She glanced at her mother, then quickly away. Finally she said, “I wanted to say good-bye to Daddy.”
Joanna looked like she’d collapse in on herself.
Ethan said matter-of-factly, “Okay, thanks for telling me. So, Joanna, you got out of there fast?”
He’d thrown her a rope and she grabbed it. “You bet. Thankfully my car was on a bit of an incline in front of the huge garage, and I put it in neutral, pushed, then jumped in as it gained speed and steered it back down that long driveway. I didn’t have to start the engine until we were nearly at the road that runs past the driveway.”
Autumn said, “I was looking back, and I didn’t see any lights go on. I told Mama we’d be okay.”
“I drove until morning. Believe me, I never stopped, even for an instant.”
Autumn said, “I tried to call Daddy, and that was stupid because there couldn’t be an answer now since he’s dead. But before he died, I spoke to him when he was in prison. Do you know, Ethan, Daddy would talk to me about everything, but he wouldn’t ever talk about his mother or his brothers. I guess I know why now. They’re creepy. I’m glad he ran away.”
Ethan asked without thinking, “Your dad had telephone minutes?”
Autumn cocked her head at him. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, he did,” Joanna said. “That’s enough for tonight, Sheriff.”
“One last thing you might help explain, Joanna. Blessed must know we’re aware of who he is now, where his family lives, yet he still tried to take Autumn. What did he intend to do with her? Where did he think he could take her? And why? And what did Shepherd mean by saying Autumn was stronger than Martin?”
“You’ll have to ask Blessed that, Sheriff. He didn’t exactly share it with us.”
20
GEORGETOWN, WASHINGTON, D.C.
Sunday evening
“That was a good call on Buzz,” Savich said to Jimmy Maitland, who’d stopped by after dinner. “He’s safe now, no way the two of them can get to him in Aruba. That would mean passports, and Lissy Smiley doesn’t have one.”
“Victor Nesser does, but the alert’s out on him. I would strongly doubt they have the sophistication to obtain good forgeries,” Maitland said. He accepted a cup of coffee from Sherlock, cocked his head at her. She said, “Yeah, yeah, the coffee god over there made it, not me.”
Maitland toasted her with his cup. “You’re looking pretty good, Sherlock. Like I told my wife, in the long scheme of things, I’d rather lose a spleen than some other parts I can think of.”
Sherlock wanted to whine about how her body still wanted to sleep when she wanted to keep working—even piddling everyday stuff—how a nice sweaty workout was still at least a week away, but she smiled. “I’m feeling it less and less every passing day.” She handed Dillon a cup of hot tea.
He said, reading her quite clearly, “Another couple of weeks and you’ll be throwing me all over the mat at the gym. Be patient.”
Maitland looked at the two of them, saw the shadow of fear still in Savich’s eyes from the thought of the bullet she’d taken. Then Savich lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “I take that back. If you were being patient about this brief vacation, I’d wonder where my Sherlock was.”